


Just Trying to Help

by mcschnuggles



Series: Little Deviant Hunter [9]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Minor Violence, Non-Sexual Age Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-02 20:38:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16312304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcschnuggles/pseuds/mcschnuggles
Summary: Hank has a nightmare while Connor's regressed.





	Just Trying to Help

Everything was set up for tonight.

The toys were laid out, the TV was set to Connor’s favorite show, and everything that Connor could possibly put in his mouth had been shelved safely out of reach.

What hadn’t been planned for was Hank falling asleep in no less than an hour.

Connor hadn’t noticed at first, his favorite toys spread in front of him as Spongebob played. Hank had introduced him to the show, and he found the odd humor endlessly fascinating to analyze. Plus, it’s always nice to hear Hank laugh as he mutters along to every joke.

Connor finally notices when Hank begins to grumble in his sleep.

Connor turns, and Sumo lifts his head from Connor’s lap. Hank is twitching, his body jerking involuntarily, his face pinched in pain.

Connor reaches out, touching his fingers to the back of Hank’s hand. From a quick analysis, he can tell that Hank’s heart is beating rapidly, his breathing has accelerated, and his blood pressure has risen significantly. Simply put, Hank is having a nightmare.

“Dad?” Connor tugs at Hank’s sleeves. The detective half of his brain is telling him to take slow, deliberate steps, to not get to close. Hank has clearly displayed signs of post-traumatic stress disorder, which combined with the slight withdrawal he’s facing from cutting back on the alcohol, could result in serious nightmares.

Hank continues to thrash, which only serves to raise Connor’s stress levels. He still doesn’t quite understand his own feelings of fear or uncertainty, and Hank is the one to help him out. Without that, and especially while he’s little, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“Dad?” Connor stands, letting the stuffed puppy in his lap fall to the floor, and climbs onto the couch beside Hank. Personal contact always helps calm him down. Perhaps it should do the same for Hank? He reaches out to hug Hank’s arm, which is the exact moment Hank jolts awake.

Connor feels himself being grabbed by the jaw and thrown backwards. He hits the ground with a deafening thud.

Every bad emotion hits him all at once. Fear. Anger. Sadness. Uncertainty. He sobs.

“Oh, buddy.” Hank sighs. He’s rubbing his knuckles like the action had hurt him.

Connor doesn’t think. Only reacts. He sprints to the kitchen and hides under the table, like that could protect him. He cowers as a pair of socked feet approach him.

“Sumo! Come here, boy.”

Sumo trods over. Hank crouches, just enough so he can snap his fingers directly in front of Connor. Sumo happily follows where he’s lead and moves to lick Connor’s face without prompting. It’s enough to get a small laugh out of Connor, even when he still feels like crying. He wraps his arm around Sumo’s neck and buries his face in the fur.

As he hugs Sumo, he hears the sound of a sink turning on and off. It isn’t long before Hank is kneeling beside the kitchen table. There’s clear regret in his face and he’s keeping a respectful distance between them. He holds out a damp washcloth. 

“For your nose.”

Connor tilts his head in confusion, then touches his fingers to his upper lip. It’s wet with Thirium. He hadn’t even realized. He shakes his head. “Dad does it.”

Something flashes across Hank’s face, something sad but not entirely readable. “Are you sure?”

Connor scoots out from under the table and nods.

“Alright then.” Like magic, he produces Connor’s stuffed puppy, a Husky named Hunter, and presses it into Connor’s arms. 

“I’m sorry I startled you.” Connor says.

“Nothing to be sorry about.” Hank mutters. He gently dabs at the blood, rather than scrubbing or wiping at it. “You weren’t the one that woke up throwing punches.”

“But that’s a common behavior exhibited in persons with post-traumatic stress disorder.” Connor argues. “In fact, it is recommended not to wake up individuals with combat experience. It was my fault.”

“Hey, enough of that. I’m the one who let it happen.” He then moves to Connor’s face, soaked with tears. Even when Connor keeps crying, he calmly continues to wipe the tears away.

Connor’s LED turns yellow. “Are you really going to argue that it was your fault for sleeping?”

“Fine, fine.” Hank relents. “Let’s agree that it’s nobody’s fault and go watch more TV, huh?” He drops the rag on top of the table to be dealt with later and opens his arms. “Come here.”

Connor hesitates. He’s never been carried before, but then again, Hank’s never offered and he’s never asked. Besides, he’s itching for a hug right about now.

Hank holds him close as they go back into the living room, and continues to hold him as he settles down on the couch. “Sumo!” he calls, and Sumo happily bounds over. It’s not often that Sumo’s allowed on the couch, but Connor crying will certainly do it.

Connor busies himself petting both of his dogs while Hank hugs him. “Would you like to talk about your nightmare?”

Hank lowers his chin and shakes his head. “No.”

Connor frowns. “You said that the only way for me to understand my fears were to address them. That’s why we made a list yesterday, and then some of the scary things stopped being so scary.”

Hank sighs. “This is different. It’s not being afraid of swimming pools.”

“Then what is it?” When Hank doesn’t answer, Connor grows insistent. He twists in Hank’s lap to look him in the eye. “Tell me,” he insists.

After a moment of pause, Hank finally gives in. “It was about losing you. Case gone wrong. Someone shot you in the head. And it’s hard to even think about because… you’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Connor says. He isn’t sure why his voice has gone so soft. 

“I know you’re not. It’s just… a fear that pops up every once in a while.”

“Fear can be irrational.” Connor sets Hunter beside Sumo so they both have someone to cuddle as he wraps his arms around Hank’s neck.

Hank hugs him a little tighter. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> mcschnuggles.tumblr.com


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